Delicate and Rare
by Bad Faery
Summary: AU: Ingenue Belle French is delighted when she receives a positive review from notoriously difficult to please theatre critic Mr. Gold.
1. Chapter 1

Belle French loved orchids. They were far and away her favorite flower, and she'd always been a bit sad that the high price tag meant she couldn't justify keeping a vase of the delicate blossoms on hand in her small apartment. Things had changed considerably for her in the past three months since she'd landed a steady job playing Honey in the Broadway production of _Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?_ Her costars were two of the biggest names in Hollywood, and they were playing to packed houses every night. It was more than an average girl from Storybrooke, Maine had the right to dream about.

Suddenly she had the money for a studio apartment she didn't have to share, even if it was a fifth floor walk-up the size of a closet. She was learning more every day and getting decent reviews, and this job was certain to lead to others when the run ended in two weeks. Belle still couldn't justify the expense of orchids, but she didn't have to. Vases of them covered every available surface in her dressing room and were slowly taking over her apartment as well courtesy of one Mr. Anthony Gold, New York's most difficult to please theatre critic.

It had been Mr. Gold's review everyone was most anxious to see the morning after opening night, and he'd been extremely generous. The lighting had displeased him, and he'd considered the set too abstract, but he'd found no fault with the acting, even going so far as to say that newcomer Belle French had held her own against her experienced costars. She'd certainly been predisposed to like him after that, but the last thing in the world she'd expected was for the man to show up at her dressing room door two days later with orchids.

At first she'd worried that he expected payment for his positive review, or worse, that he'd given her a good review simply to get her into bed. However months had gone by during which he'd seen the show at least three times a week and brought her orchids after each performance, and he'd yet to do more than shake her hand.

After the night's show Belle had just finished changing into her usual jeans and poet blouse and was twisting her wet hair into a knot at the top of her head when she heard the familiar polite rap on her dressing room door. "Come in, Mr. Gold!" She looked up with a smile as he limped in, a fresh bouquet of orchids in the hand that wasn't holding his cane.

"Excellent show as usual, Miss French," he complimented her, waiting until she waved for him to sit down before taking his usual chair. He held the flowers out to her and she exclaimed over them, wondering how after over forty bouquets of orchids, he was still finding ways to make each look unique. "You were playing up Honey's attraction to George a bit more tonight, weren't you?"

He never missed a nuance of her performance; it was that fact that had convinced Belle he'd actually meant the nice things he said about her in his review. Each night he brought her flowers, and they sat and discussed her character beats, his feedback as invaluable a learning tool as her costars' advice.

"It was Dustin's idea," she admitted, "He thought it would add to the pathos."

"I found it very effective," he assured her, and they spent the next twenty minutes deconstructing the night's performance, Belle focusing as much of her attention on the sound of his voice as his words. She'd always been attracted to tall, well-built men who invariably turned out to be vapid and superficial. Mr. Gold could talk intelligently about every topic she'd ever broached in a Scottish brogue that made her melt. Had they passed on the street, she wouldn't have looked twice at him, but that would have been her loss. It had only taken her a week to learn to appreciate his beautiful eyes and the way his smile transformed his face. She just wasn't sure how to get them from flowers and chatting to the next step in their relationship, whatever that might be.

For months he'd played off her questions about his life and failed to notice her attempts at flirting. Belle could almost think he wasn't interested in her beyond her acting abilities, but men didn't regularly buy orchids for women they weren't attracted to. It was beginning to look like she was going to have to take some kind of drastic action before the show closed and they no longer had a reason to see each other.

"A pleasure as always, Miss French," he told her as their visit drew to a close, holding his hand out to her.

Belle took it, holding on when he would have released her, a sense of recklessness seizing her. "Is that all you want from me, Mr. Gold?"

He stopped trying to pull away, his gaze intent on her face, "What do you mean?"

Keeping hold of his hand, she stepped closer, intruding on his personal space as she asked, "Is this all you want? To give me flowers and talk about my acting choices?"

"What else would you offer me?" He cleared his throat, his voice sounding hoarse.

Belle smiled and moved even closer, their hands trapped between their bodies as she lifted her face to his, their lips only inches apart. "If you don't ask, you'll never find out."

His fingers tightened around hers almost convulsively. "Miss French-"

"Belle," she corrected him, and something flared in his eyes.

"_Belle_. Would you- Could I-" There was something unspeakably adorable about watching the well-spoken Mr. Gold struggle for words. "May I kiss you, Belle?"

"I'll be disappointed if you don't," she smiled, and the noise he made at that was almost a whimper, then his lips were brushing gently against hers.

He kissed her for only a moment before pulling back, his eyes fraught with apprehension like he expected her to slap him for taking such a liberty even though she'd already granted her permission. She released his hand, the disappointment on his face vanishing when she wrapped her arm around his waist, keeping him close when he would have stepped back.

He was a slender man, almost slight, and she was shocked to realize he was only a few inches taller than she was. Mr. Gold cast such an impressive shadow over the theatre district that he'd always seemed larger than life. Now in her arms with his heart pounding in his chest hard enough that Belle could feel its frantic rhythm, he was just an ordinary man- her man.

"May I kiss _you_ now, Mr. Gold?" she asked, and she could see his throat move as he swallowed hard.

"_Please_," he hissed, sounding pained.

The hand that wasn't holding his cane slid around her, his fingers splayed against her back to hold her close as she brushed her lips against his, imitating what he'd done to her before pressing deeper and sucking tenderly on his bottom lip. He moaned against her mouth, and Belle shivered at the thought that she could excite him so much by doing so little. Running her hands up his back, she carded her fingers through his hair, finding it as soft as she'd imagined it would be.

He kissed her back with a fierce absorption, taking everything she offered but never asking for more until Belle decided it was time to take the next step. She flicked her tongue against his lips, and he parted them for her with a low groan that made her stomach curl pleasurably. She explored his mouth slowly, his tongue sliding against hers as he offered himself, inviting her deeper. Belle had never felt this in control of a kiss before; she'd always been the one to be plundered, and she quickly discovered that she loved offering pleasure like this.

Against her stomach, she could feel him hardening before he stepped back a little, not letting his lips break from hers. He was so sweetly shy, and Belle resisted the urge to haul him back against her as she finished learning every crevice of his mouth. He tasted like tea and scotch and something faintly spicy that Belle couldn't identify but knew she wanted more of.

"So do you bring orchids to every up-and-coming actress, Mr. Gold?" she teased as they finally drew apart, regretting it instantly when he looked stricken.

"Never. I _never_ do this," he swore, sounding a little desperate, "I couldn't stay away. Do you have any _idea_ how talented you are? You're so open and raw and honest; I was half in love with you by the end of opening night. I had to meet you. I couldn't think of anything _but_ you. I still can't. I thought it would go away, but it just got worse. You're so brilliant. So beautiful and so kind to an old man-"

Tears pooled in Belle's eyes at his passionate words, but she shook her head when he neared the end of his piece. "No! I'm not 'being kind' to you. You're smart and interesting and handsome, and I love talking to you. Although I'm starting to feel like talking is a waste of time when we can be doing _this_." She seized his mouth again, backing him against her dressing table as carefully as she could, trying not to knock him off balance.

He dropped his cane, one arm tight around her waist while his other hand cradled the back of her neck. Belle pressed closer, feeling his hard length throbbing against her belly as he trembled in her arms. "Eager?" she murmured, reaching down to cup him, and he jerked into her hand with a tortured groan, his face anguished.

"Sorry. It's... been a while." His color was heightened, obviously embarrassed by his excitement, but Belle felt nothing but pleased and a bit flattered that she could work him up so much so quickly.

"How long's a while?" she asked curiously. Actors gossiped about everything, but she'd never heard any tales about Mr. Gold having a personal life.

If anything, his blush deepened. "Ten years? Longer? I've rather lost count." He was trying to sound nonchalant and not quite managing it.

Ten years? There was a story there. No normal, healthy man went ten years without sex unless there was a story. However now wasn't the time to press him, Belle realized. Mr. Gold couldn't even meet her eyes. "We don't have to if you don't want to," she assured him, feeling like they'd had their scripts switched. The ingenue was pressuring the powerful middle-aged critic for sex. If this moment cropped up in a script, she'd dismiss it as unbelievable.

"Oh, I want to," he said fervently, then his lips twisted, "Just be warned that it's unlikely to be... impressive."

"Baby..." she murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Whatever the story was, it was bound to be unpleasant, and she just wanted to take him in her arms and make all the bad memories go away. Another idea struck her- darker and more wicked- and she licked the spot she'd just kissed, running her hand over him. "Let's take care of you first then, hmmm?"

Before he could say anything, she dropped to her knees, her hands going to work on his belt and the fly of his trousers. She glanced up at him, smiling at the awestruck look on his face before leaning forward to nuzzle him through the fine wool. Against her cheek, he felt like iron, and she didn't care if it was her or the long dry spell that was doing this to him; she was going to enjoy it either way.

She freed him from his trousers, stifling a gasp. His erection was flushed a deep red, shading to purple around the head. The poor man looked like he'd been hard for _hours_, and she wondered if he'd been aroused watching her on stage. Against her fingers he felt almost painfully hot, and when she pressed a tender kiss to the tip, he groaned like she was torturing him.

"You don't have to... we should... home. A bed. Something _nice_," He was speaking in fragments, but Belle understood him perfectly, and her heart warmed. She was offering to go down on him, and he was concerned for her comfort. She could so easily fall in love with this man. She wondered if she hadn't already done so.

"We will, baby," she promised him, kissing away the drop of moisture that was beading at the tip. "This is just an appetizer. Let's just take the edge off for you, yeah?"

He nodded, a small frightened movement, and she took him in her mouth, wrapping her hand around the base of him. His deep groan filled the room, and Belle heard a scrabbling sound as he clawed at her dressing table with his short nails. Belle had practice at this act although she was far from an expert, but she'd never enjoyed it more. Mr. Gold was hot and hard against her tongue, the noises he was making telling her without words just how much pleasure she was giving him. She fluttered her tongue against him, using just the tip to trace the vein on the underside, relishing his smothered grunts and the way his hips twitched just a little like he wanted to thrust but he was trying to hold himself back.

There had been quite enough holding back in this relationship so far she decided. With her free hand she reached up to take his wrist, prying his fingers off the dressing table and guiding them to her hair. He clutched at her bun, working his fingers into it, and soon her hair was falling about her face in damp curls. Sliding her hand lower, she took him a little deeper, forcing herself not to tense up as the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat.

"Belle!" His fingers clenched in her hair, and she wasn't sure if he wanted to pull her off of him or force her to take him deeper. A second later he released her, stroking her curls apologetically away from her face, and Belle wasn't going to let him restrain himself any more. She released him, sucking in a deep breath through her nose at the same moment that she swallowed, unspeakably proud of herself when he slid into her throat without her gagging. Above her, Mr. Gold shouted, an inarticulate sound of pure need, and she grabbed his ass, digging her fingers into the taut muscles as she encouraged him to thrust.

"Belle! You mustn't- I can't- Oh, _Belle_!" he sounded _wrecked_, completely desperate, and she was determined to take him over the edge. Carefully she let her teeth just scrape against him, and his hips jerked, her nose almost brushing the curls at the base of him as he roared her name, his release spilling down her throat.

Closing her lips, she swallowed around him, and he nearly convulsed, his body going rigid with tension before his legs gave out, and she was forced to take her mouth off of him as he slid down to sit on the floor. He was gaping at her, his mouth slack and glistening, and Belle couldn't resist brushing a soft kiss against his lips as she tucked him back into his trousers. The next thing she knew, strong hands were grasping her shoulders and pulling her into his lap as he kissed her frantically. "My _God_, Belle," he gasped as he released her, still panting for breath, and she smiled tenderly.

"Was that better than talking about character choices?" she teased gently, brushing her fingers against the side of his face, and he nodded, leaning into her touch.

"_Much_," he said, so emphatically that it made her giggle. "Home now, please? Or dinner. I should take you out for dinner..."

He was starting to think again, and Belle couldn't allow that. When Mr. Gold started thinking he started _over_ thinking, and that was why it had taken them three months to get here. "How about your place and takeout?" she suggested, leaning in for another kiss.

"Oh yes," he breathed, "Yes, please. Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" Belle beamed, hopping to her feet and holding out her hands to help him up. "That's easy. I want _you_."

"For the life of me, I don't know why," he confessed, struggling to his feet and leaning on the table as Belle retrieved his abandoned cane. "I'm old enough to be your father, love."

"Well, thankfully you're _not_," Belle shrugged off his concern. "That would be too kinky even for the theatre world. Besides, you're not old; you're... vintage. Experienced."

His smile didn't quite meet his eyes, but he held his hand out to her, and she took it gladly. "I shall endeavor to not disappoint you."

There was definitely a story that she needed to hear, but it could wait. "You won't," she vowed, then tugged on his hand, "Come on. Takeout. Bed."

"Have you ever considered directing?" he asked, allowing himself to be led toward the theater's exit, "I think you would excel at it."

She released his hand as they stepped outside and took his arm instead, hugging it to her. "Your motivation is that you have a young woman who's absolutely crazy about you, and you're trying to get her home as quickly as possible."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that went straight to her core. "Now that I can work with."

He kissed the top of her head, and Belle giggled. "In that case, I think you have a _very_ positive review in your future."


	2. Chapter 2

There were twenty-six steps separating his dining table from his bedroom. With Belle sitting opposite him, happily demolishing an order of stir-fried rice noodles, the thought of actually walking them seemed less likely than him suddenly being able to run a marathon. He'd have better luck with the marathon. The worst thing that could happen if he attempted that was a massive heart attack followed by death. Taking Belle to his bedroom was far riskier.

Dear God, what had he been _thinking_ bringing her here?

He hadn't been thinking, he admitted grimly. Glorious Belle had smiled at him with sparkling eyes and lips swollen from him thrusting into her mouth, and he would have agreed to anything she said. He would have helped her conquer the world and all she'd wanted was takeout and a bed.

None of this had been supposed to happen. He'd just wanted to see her, talk to her, and she'd taken his bribe without complaint. Thousands of dollars of orchids in exchange for scattered minutes of her company was a more than fair price. He'd even dared to dream that she might permit him to kiss her cheek on closing night. Then he could have brought his sweet memories home and curled up with them in his lonely bed and spent the rest of his life just indulging in them. That would have been fine.

But Belle hadn't been satisfied with that. She'd pushed and encouraged and let him... do things. And she'd done things to him that made him want to get down on his knees and kiss her feet in gratitude. He'd have done it if he thought he'd be able to get back up. And now they were here, in his home, and she was almost done with her meal, and she was expecting them to do more things, and he was wondering if it was too late to run and hide.

"Not hungry?" Belle asked, nodding at his own plate. He'd been shoving his chicken around instead of eating it, and he was left with a rather unappetizing slop. Not that he'd had much of an appetite to begin with. He looked warily from his plate to her face, and her eyes softened. "Tell me."

Telling her how long it had been had no doubt been a mistake. She'd want to know why. Why hadn't he thought to shave a few years off that number? His mouth twisted bitterly. Oh, that's right. He _had_. "Tell you what?" he stalled.

"Why you're so nervous." Belle got to her feet, depositing both their food containers in the trash and holding out her hand. "No, don't tell me yet. Which way's the bedroom?"

He didn't move, just nodded towards the hall. "Last door on the left."

"Come on," she grabbed his hand and tugged until he got reluctantly to his feet, pulling him after her as she followed his directions. "Nice." She looked around the room appreciatively although he didn't find it particularly interesting. Cream colored walls, dark wood furniture, a burgundy comforter, and a clutter of trinkets weren't exactly high fashion, but it was comfortable.

"All right, take your shoes off and get on the bed," she ordered, and he instinctively moved to obey before his brain caught up with him.

"What?" Belle was in the process of slipping her own shoes off, but she remained fully dressed as she clambered onto the bed, stacking pillows up for them to lean against.

"You look like you're going to bolt," she informed him, "Shoes off. At least that will slow you down."

With a wry look he held up his cane, and she stared back challengingly until he got his shoes and socks off, moving to sit beside her, their legs stretched out in front of them. He gazed down at their bare feet in wonder. There had never been a woman in this bed before. Belle snuggled into his side, resting her head against his shoulder, and warmth flooded him at her affectionate gesture. "Tell me," she prompted softly, and there was no point in pretending he didn't know what she meant.

"I was married once. A long time ago. She was not impressed with my... prowess." Marrying Kathleen had been a mistake; he'd realized that almost immediately, but by that point it was too late. He'd made the commitment, and he would honor it. He'd tried to be a good husband to her, but she'd seemed to derive some kind of pleasure from pointing out just how unsatisfactory he was in bed. Frequently. Loudly. Publicly.

He'd been willing to experiment, but no touch had ever pleased her, and he could still hear her exasperated, "Are you even _trying_?" ringing in his ears. Being inside her wasn't much better. He either came immediately, which was bad, or got so tangled up in his head that he couldn't come at all, which was worse because it prolonged things. "I'm afraid she found me quite unsatisfactory."

Belle nodded, her eyes soft with sympathy, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek. He'd tried twice more since his divorce, first with a producer who'd been hoping for a good review for her upcoming show, and then in desperation with a prostitute. Neither experience had been pleasant, and he'd given up. It hadn't mattered much until he'd met Belle. Sweet, brilliant Belle who made him long for all kinds of things that he couldn't have. "You'll find my technique hasn't improved since then."

"I've been perfectly satisfied so far," she told him, and he winced.

"You've also been doing all the work," he muttered, unable to meet her eyes. He'd lasted all of three minutes in her dressing room, rutting into her mouth like he was some kind of beast. A real man would have courted her properly- dinners out, expensive gifts, candlelight- before tucking her into his bed and kissing every inch of her. He would have made her come half a dozen times before even thinking about allowing her to reciprocate. Instead, Belle got a few flowers and takeout Vietnamese food. She'd had his cock in her mouth and the only things he'd seen bare on her were her feet.

"I enjoyed it." She grinned at him cheekily, her smile fading at whatever she saw in his face. Cupping his cheek, she coaxed him to look at her. "Hey. Baby, it's okay. If you don't want to, we won't. But if you don't want to because you think it won't be good for me... let me worry about that."

"It _won't_ be good for you," he said hoarsely, "I won't please you, Belle. I want to, but I know I won't." He'd give anything to be able to please Belle, to make her shiver at his touch and moan his name. Gold knew his limitations though. At best he'd disappoint her. At worst she'd laugh at him, and her mockery would destroy him.

"Hush," she crooned, tugging him down to brush her lips against his, "You think too much, baby. You can take direction, yeah?"

"Yes," he agreed warily, and her resulting smile was blinding.

"I'll tell you what to do. All you have to do is listen. Can we try that?" Gold opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Belle was offering to teach him to please her. She'd lose patience with him when she saw what a hopeless case he was, but maybe he'd manage something acceptable with her guidance. It was the closest thing to hope he'd had in over a decade.

He nodded, not sure how to respond, and her eyes were so very warm. "If you ever want to stop, stop. I won't be upset," she told him seriously, waiting until he signaled agreement. With a sweet smile, she lifted her index finger to the corner of her mouth. "Kiss."

He pressed his lips gently to the spot she'd indicated, and her skin was so soft beneath his lips. Belle hadn't told him to touch her anywhere else, so he was careful not to, just letting his lips graze the corner of her mouth until she murmured, "A little harder."

The firm kiss felt even better and although he was probably imagining it, he thought he heard Belle sigh. "Again. Open your mouth a little and lick, very quickly, just with the tip of your tongue." He did as commanded, and this time he definitely heard a sharp intake of breath. He pulled back to look at her in disbelief, and Belle beamed at him. "You're doing _fine_."

With her guidance he worked his way across the side of her face and down her throat, adding his teeth into the mix when commanded. Belle was specific about what she wanted, which helped immeasurably. Even better was the way she sighed when he did something right.

"Up a little. A little more. Tiny bit to your left..." His face heated as he fumbled, trying to find the spot on her neck she was directing him to, but the embarrassment faded when Belle suddenly moaned, "Yeah, right there. Oh, that's good, baby."

He'd _never_ made a woman moan like that before, and the sound sent a rush of heat down his spine, his stomach quivering. He was pleasing Belle, and she couldn't have gotten him away from that spot with a crowbar as he used his lips and tongue and teeth and just a bit of suction to make her moan again.

Hearing Belle moan because of what he was doing was far more erotic than anything any woman had ever done to him, and the sheer excitement of it made him tremble. His cock was straining against the front of his trousers, but he didn't care if she didn't lay a hand on him; this was already the best sexual experience of his life. Gold just wanted to do _more_, and he bit down hard, unthinkingly burying his teeth in her throat. He realized what he'd done the moment Belle yelped and wrenched himself away, panting for breath, "Fuck! Sorry. I'm sorry."

There was a red mark on her throat from where he'd bitten her, and Gold cursed himself. Things had been going so well. Before he could move away from her, Belle wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place. "It's okay! It didn't hurt; you just surprised me." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him, "I like your initiative."

His gaze flickered between her smile and the mark on her neck. "I didn't hurt you?"

"Not at all," she promised, holding his gaze fearlessly, and he relaxed a little. Belle was an actress, but she wouldn't lie to him. As he watched, her hands went to the hem of her loose poet blouse, and she said teasingly, "Let's find some other places that like to be kissed."

He exhaled shakily as she drew the fabric over her head, baring herself to him from the waist up save for the sheer lace bra that tormented him with tiny peeks at her skin. "You're _so_ beautiful," he managed to say through his suddenly dry throat, taking hold of the comforter so he didn't reach for her. She hadn't told him he could yet.

Belle dimpled prettily at the compliment, "Why, thank you. Give me your hand, baby." When he offered her his hand, she caught his wrist and leaned back into the pillows. "Spread your fingers a bit."

With her guiding him, he explored her throat and collarbone with just his fingertips, loving the smoothness and warmth of her skin. She sighed at the touch, her gentle smile never fading as she released her hold on him. "You can explore."

Permission granted, he swept his fingers carefully over her upper body, touching her stomach and arms as gently as possible, listening for any hint that he'd found a sensitive place and committing the area to memory. Under his fingers, Belle sighed and arched unselfconsciously, her eyes warm. "You're so sweet," she murmured as he traced circles around her navel. "I love the look on your face. You're so focused."

Gold wasn't certain what to say to that, and before he could come up with something, she caught his hand in hers, lifting it to her mouth for a kiss that felt like approval before placing his hand on her breast, and his breath caught. "You're allowed to touch, baby."

She'd told him that before, but he hadn't wanted to presume. Now, however, he never wanted his hands to be anywhere else. Belle was so incredibly soft, so sweet to touch, and he wanted to enjoy this while it lasted, because this was the part where everything always went wrong. He traced the edge of her bra with his fingertip before growing a little bolder, the delicate lace catching on his rough fingers.

"A little harder," Belle prompted after a few moments, and he increased the pressure as little as possible. His ex-wife had once accused him of treating her breasts like bread dough, and he didn't want to inspire such a comparison for Belle. With cautious fingers, he explored every inch of her, disappointed but not surprised when she didn't really react. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, love," he assured her, the endearment feeling natural. Belle was allowing him to look at her, to touch her, and he would cherish these memories no matter how badly this ended. For now, at least, they were enjoying each other.

"Then you won't mind if we take this a little further," she challenged, waiting for him to argue. Gold shook his head helplessly; wherever she wanted to go, he would follow. Reaching behind her, Belle unfastened her bra and tossed the garment carelessly to the floor, leaving him staring at her in wonder. How had they gotten here? He'd never expected, never dreamed, that they'd get this far.

It was the same skin he'd touched before, but being able to see her changed everything. She was so smooth and pale with delicate pink nipples that begged for a man's attentions. Gold didn't dare touch her. The lace had been protection of a sort, but like this she was fragile. If his clumsy hands touched her, he was certain to displease her.

"Baby?" He heard her voice from what seemed like very far away, then Belle sighed. "All right. Sit back."

A mixture of disappointment and relief flooded him. This was so beautiful that he didn't want it to end, but Belle making him stop now meant that he wouldn't hurt her or disgust her. Better to stop now before he could completely humiliate himself.

He pulled away from her, leaning back into the pillows when she gestured for him to do so. Belle would probably want to talk about this, reassure him that it wasn't anything personal. At least she'd let him down easily; she was too kind to do anything else. He was so busy bracing himself for her gentle rejection that he completely missed her moving until she was all but depositing herself in his lap, wriggling until she was seated between his thighs, her back pressed against his chest. "Let's try this instead, okay?"

Catching his hands in hers, Belle brought them to her breasts, cradling them in her own as she guided him to cup her breasts and squeeze. With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. "Isn't that better?"

"Yeah," he managed breathlessly. They weren't stopping. Belle didn't want to stop. Far from it, he realized as she moved his hands with her own, showing him exactly how she wanted to be touched, the exact pressure she liked. He paid rapt attention, praying he'd be able to replicate her movements on his own. If she was still willing to teach him, he'd be the most eager student imaginable.

After a few minutes, Belle let her right hand fall away, still guiding his left but leaving him to mimic her actions with his other hand. Gritting his teeth he tried to concentrate, but it was so hard with her soft voice cooing words of praise, "That's good, baby. You're doing _so_ well."

He whimpered at her words, thrusting involuntarily against her, and he bit his tongue hard to distract himself, forcing his hips to stillness. "It's okay to move. Just do what feels good. It's supposed to feel good."

Pleasing her felt good, and Gold couldn't afford to let himself get distracted. Not when Belle was using his thumb and forefinger to pinch her nipple and rocking her hips against him in the most maddening way. Everything she did he copied, worried that he was doing it too hard as he squeezed and twisted just a bit, but Belle just moaned his name, "Mr. Gold..."

"Anthony," he gasped, barely able to speak, "Anthony, please." He'd kill to hear her moan his given name like that.

"Anthony, _please_..." she obliged him, turning the two words he'd said into something else entirely.

"_Belle_." He turned his face to bury it in her hair, kissing every part of her he could reach and wincing when she took her other hand away from his. Surely she wouldn't stop him now, not _now_.

"Keep going," she urged when he paused, and Gold went back to what he'd been doing with a vengeance, feeling like he was torturing the tiny buds, but Belle seemed to love it. He looked down to see what he was doing, his brain stuttering to a halt at the sight of his hands on her breasts, his tanned skin such a contrast to her paleness that he could scarcely breathe for the beauty of it. He was touching Belle, and she was _enjoying_ it. He was giving her pleasure.

Belle wriggled against him, and his eyes rolled back in his head at the contact before he realized what she was doing. He couldn't hold back the groan that tore from his throat as she worked her jeans and knickers down, kicking them off the bed and leaving her bare in his arms.

Snuggling back into him, Belle reached for his right hand, guiding it slowly down her body and showing him where she wanted to be stroked along the way. It was harder to remember what to do with his left hand now that she was expecting him to multitask, but he seemed to manage well enough if her breathy sighs were anything to go by.

Both of them gasped when she brought his hand to her core, sliding his fingers through her slick heat. "_God_, Belle."

"Yes," she whispered back, showing him just where to touch, "Oh, yes."

She was hot and wet and wonderful against his fingers, and Gold could barely concentrate, wanting nothing more than to just enjoy her little moans and the way she was rocking her hips. Grinding his teeth, he forced himself to focus. They'd come so far, further than he'd believed possible, and he wouldn't fail her now. He would master this.

When she guided his fingers to her clitoris, it was a revelation. He knew where the bundle of nerves was located- he wasn't an idiot- but the knowledge had never helped him. Now he knew why. He'd made the mistake of assuming that a woman found pleasure like a man did: direct stimulation, hard and fast. Belle preferred an indirect touch, showing him how to flutter his fingers just against the side instead of right on top. Under her guidance he learned there could be too much of a good thing, that it was necessary to fall back and explore other places, and there were so many other sensitive places. Men went straight from point A to point B; women preferred the scenic route.

What a view it was when she reached the precipice. Belle turned her face into him, burrowing against his neck, and he could see how flushed she was, her panting breath driving him wild. She craved a harder touch now, and he obliged her, using his other hand to pinch at her nipple until her curvy little body stiffened in his arms for a moment before she started rocking her hips against him frantically. The pressure against his cock was too much, and he struggled to hold on until Belle suddenly shouted his name, and her sweet voice screaming, "_Anthony_!" dragged him over the edge with her.

He was forty-eight years old, far too old to come in his pants like a schoolboy, but Gold couldn't even managed to feel embarrassed about it when he had Belle panting and writhing in his arms from pleasure he'd given her. He'd pleased his Belle. He'd made her come. He'd actually made her come.

As her body gradually stilled, he left off what he was doing to her nipple and just cradled her breast, offering her the comfort of his touch as she showed him how to prolong her pleasure, and he obeyed her eagerly, wanting to draw it out as much as he could until she lay limp in his arms, her breathing ragged, and _he'd_ done that to her. He felt like a god. "Thank you, love."

Belle chuckled weakly, lifting her face for a kiss. "You stole my line," she pouted. "That was _wonderful_, baby. You did beautifully."

It was only the first step, Gold knew that. There were a thousand things they hadn't tried yet, a thousand ways he could still disappoint her, but they had this. This worked for them, and that was more than he'd ever expected to have. Later they'd experiment, and she'd teach him how to please her with his mouth or his cock. For now, he was content to simply hold Belle against him and wait for their heartbeats to slow to normal as they enjoyed the moment. There would be time enough for everything else later.


	3. Chapter 3

At some point they got him out of the rest of his clothing, and he wrapped himself around Belle beneath the sheets, afraid to close his eyes for fear he'd wake and discover the wonderful night had been nothing more than a dream.

Belle snuggled into him, pillowing her head on his chest as she murmured, "See? I told you that there was nothing to worry about."

Gold kissed her hair and ran his hand over her bare arm, scarcely able to believe that this was really happening. "You give very good directions, love." She'd been so patient with him, so kind and generous, and he'd never be able to thank her enough. No orchids, no good reviews, would ever be enough to show his gratitude for her astonishing gift.

With a giggle, she kissed his chest. "All actors secretly want to direct."

Despite his best efforts, he dozed off after awhile, sinking into a blissfully contented slumber with Belle in his arms. When he woke up, he was alone.

Rolling over, he buried his face in her pillow, catching the faintest trace of her scent. It hadn't been a dream. Belle had been here, and she'd let him touch her, and no dream could be half so wonderful as that memory.

His throat felt tight, and he tried to just concentrate on breathing. It was okay that it was over. She'd given him so much more than the kiss on the cheek he'd fantasized about. He'd touched Belle and kissed her and made her come, and those memories would be enough to fuel his fantasies for the rest of his life. Even if it was a one time thing, it was still more than he'd ever dared to hope for. Maybe she'd even let him keep buying her orchids.

His heart nearly stopped when the mattress dipped under another person's weight and warm lips pressed against the back of his neck. "Wake up, sleepyhead," Belle teased, and he rolled over to blink up at her in shock.

"You're still here," he rasped, biting his lip to keep from whimpering when he saw she'd slipped on the dress shirt he'd worn the night before.

Belle's smile turned puzzled. "Where else would I be?" she asked, leaning down to brush her lips against his.

Hesitantly he kissed back, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger. "I'm glad you're still here," he murmured when their lips parted, and Belle curled up next to him.

"So am I," she assured him, her smile making her nose crinkle, and he leaned in to kiss the tip of it, loving the way she giggled at his show of affection. "So, what do you want to do now?"

For the life of him, Gold had no idea what to say to that. Mornings after weren't something he had much experience with. His mind raced as he tried to think of something appropriate, and he finally seized on an idea. "Are you hungry? I could make you breakfast."

Belle leaned a little closer and brushed her lips against his. "I'm not hungry for food," she murmured, and his heart doubled its rhythm when he realized what she was offering him. He'd managed to please her enough that she'd allow him to touch her again. "What do you want to do, baby?"

He wanted to do _everything_ with Belle, but if she was going to be patient enough to keep tutoring him, he knew exactly what he wanted to do first. "Will you let me please you again? With… with my mouth?" Those moments in her dressing room had been some of the best of his life, and if she could teach him to make her feel even one tenth as good, Gold would ask for nothing more.

"We can do anything you want," she promised, and his breath caught in his throat as she pulled the shirt she was wearing off over her head, baring herself to him completely without a hint of shyness.

Gold moaned at the sight of her, even more beautiful in the morning light than she'd been the night before. "You're so beautiful," he rasped, daring to brush the swell of her breast with his fingertips, "Oh God, Belle, you're so beautiful."

With a sweet smile, she caught his hand, encouraging him to cup her breast, and her softness made him groan. He knew how to do this; she'd taught him how to do this, and he leaned into her, his lips searching for the sensitive place on her neck while he gently squeezed her breast, brushing his thumb over her nipple.

Belle moaned, burying her fingers in his hair to gently guide him to the right place, and he'd be hearing her noises in his dreams for the rest of his life. He sucked and kissed and nuzzled, soaking in every breathless moan until she eased him away from her.

He jerked back, taking his hands off of her at once at this sign of her displeasure. He'd done something wrong. "It's okay," she assured him at once, stroking the side of his face. "Anthony, it's okay."

If she was pushing him away, it was not okay. "What did I do?" he asked. Whatever it was, he wouldn't do it again. He'd be more careful next time. He'd please her.

She brushed her lips against his. "When you stay in one place for a long time, it can be too much."

Gold winced. He'd been so happy to find a touch that pleased her, but he'd managed to screw even that up. "Hush," Belle said, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in for another, harder kiss. "You didn't do anything wrong. That just means it's time to explore."

Taking his hand, she kissed his palm. "Any place that likes to be touched likes to be kissed," she instructed, and he nodded, scrambling to remember all the places he'd touched her last night. Belle lay back and held onto him, bringing him with her until he was hovering over her, his bad leg awkwardly extended. Gold didn't even notice the discomfort with Belle spread out before him like a banquet.

"Go ahead," she coaxed, and he lowered his head, brushing a soft kiss against the base of her throat. She sighed, stroking his hair to reward him, and he moved a little lower, decorating her collarbone with little baby kisses. Beneath him she felt so fragile and delicate, yet she was so much stronger and braver than he was. The contrast was heady.

"And everything that likes to be kissed likes to be licked," she prompted. Shivering, he bathed her collarbone with his tongue, glorying in the way she shifted and sighed, her nails scratching at his scalp. "That feels wonderful," she praised, and the words went straight to his cock.

Nothing in the world was more erotic than knowing he was pleasing Belle, and Gold groaned as she ran her hand down his back, his cock twitching anxiously. "Don't distract me," he begged, and she chuckled, kissing the top of his head.

"It's supposed to feel good," she reminded him.

"Oh, it does. It does," he vowed. He didn't care if she never touched him again as long as she allowed him this. He'd be perfectly satisfied with this. "I want to make you feel good."

"You do, baby," she murmured, her voice so filled with warmth and affection that his eyes stung.

At her urging, he moved lower, his hands tenderly cupping her breasts as he laved them with kisses and licks, Belle using her grip on his hair to show him where she wanted to be touched. Gold hesitated when she guided him to her nipple, pressing his lips against the little bud gently.

"You're so sweet," she praised, giving his neck a squeeze. "Remember last night?"

If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget a single moment of the previous night, but he wasn't sure what she was getting at. He looked up helplessly, and Belle gave him a look of infinite patience at his fumbling confusion.

As he watched, Belle lifted her hand to her breast, her fingers pinching her nipple as she let out a breathless moan, and he canted his hips down, feeling like he could climax just from the sight of her doing that. "Use your teeth, baby," she directed, "Gently."

The caveat was unnecessary. Gold was so terrified that he'd hurt her that he barely let his teeth scrape against the tight bud, looking up anxiously when she shifted. "A little harder," she prompted, and he tried again, catching the bud between his teeth and giving a quick tug.

Her low groan made his blood boil, and Belle tightened her grip on his hair to keep him in place. "Again," she ordered, and he obeyed gladly, repeating the motion until she was moaning continually, interspersing gentle bites with laves from his tongue, trying to soothe any hurt that he was inflicting.

"The other one," she prompted, and he shifted his attention to her neglected breast, loving the way her nipple hardened against his tongue. No woman could fake that kind of reaction no matter how good of an actress she was. He was pleasing his Belle.

When it became too much, she eased him away, and he nuzzled at the undersides of her breasts, listening to her unsteady breathing, the sound more potent than any caress. She giggled when he moved lower, rubbing his stubbled cheek against her flat stomach, and he tensed for only a moment before he realized the sound was happy, not jeering. Belle was happy.

"You're good at this," she praised, and he blushed at the kind words, shaking his head. All he was doing was following instructions.

"You are," she insisted, tugging on his hair to force him to look up at her. "You're gentle and patient. Not many man would bother doing this."

Gold couldn't imagine how any man could have Belle in his bed and not want to spend all of his time worshipping her. "I want to be good for you," he told her, and her face softened as she tugged him up for a kiss.

"You are," she breathed against his mouth. "You're good for me."

The words were a siren call, and he seized her mouth, letting himself rest on her as he kissed her, so focused on remembering all of her sensitive places that he didn't even notice that his cock was pressing against her hip until Belle ran her hand down his back to squeeze his arse, and he thrust against her with a muffled grunt, nearly biting her tongue.

He pulled back, feeling like he was ripping his soul apart by moving away from her. Belle reached out to brush her fingers against his cock, and he caught her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth for a desperate kiss.

"We can-" she started, parting her legs in welcome, and his eyes rolled back in his head at the invitation.

"You said you'd let me please you," he reminded her, his voice gravely. Gold was very, very familiar with his limitations. If Belle let him be inside of her, he'd be done in five seconds, leaving her disappointed and him humiliated.

"Okay," she murmured, giving his hand a squeeze. "Whatever you want, baby."

Gold wanted to prolong this as much as possible, to delay the moment when she realized how truly incompetent he was. If Belle kept giving him instructions, he could keep pleasing her, but if they tried that, he'd be certain to let her down.

He took his place between her legs, lavishing her inner thighs with kisses as he took deep breaths of her scent. Her sweet musk was heavy in the air, proof that he'd managed to arouse her. Delicately, he nuzzled at her curls as he breathed her in, giving her the chance to shove him away if this wasn't what she wanted.

Belle carded her fingers through his hair, inviting him closer, and Gold whimpered, nuzzling his nose against her folds, his mouth watering at the scent of her. "Go ahead," she whispered, and he parted her folds with a long lick that made her shiver and him groan like he was being tortured.

He'd attempted this before with Kathleen who'd quickly lost patience with his clumsy efforts. While he hadn't minded the taste of her, he'd never found it particularly appealing, but one taste of Belle had him slavering for more. She was delicious- all musk and honey- and he was addicted in a moment.

He lapped at her messily, artlessly, greedy for more of her. She was so very wet, and he'd done that. He'd made her want him. "Oh, Belle… _Belle_…" he all but sobbed, and she stroked his hair, murmuring in pleasure as he devoured her.

After a few minutes Gold realized how selfish he was being. He was supposed to please her, not indulge himself. Grabbing at the tattered remains of his sanity, he thought back to the previous night and everything she'd shown him.

His fingers twitched on her hips, remembering the patterns that she'd taught him, and he strove to emulate them with his tongue, the new angle making him feel like he was doing everything backwards. Every time he did something right, Belle sighed or moaned, arching into him, and nothing had ever felt better than her approval.

He could barely concentrate. Belle was moaning for him and rocking her hips, and the sheer joy of knowing he was pleasing her left him shaking. With soft words and gentle nudges she got him back on track every time he got lost, and eventually he realized he'd fallen into a rhythm- over and around and a few quick licks and over and around and-

Belle screamed.

Her nails raked across his scalp, holding him in place, and he obeyed her wordless command to keep going as she trembled, crying out to him. "Oh, _Anthony_…"

He could feel how tense her thighs were as she rocked against him, her hold on his hair nearly painful, and nothing had ever felt better. He'd made her come. He'd made her _scream_.

Belle relaxed with a drawn-out moan, petting his hair in apology, and he would have spent the rest of his life doing nothing but this if she hadn't tugged him back up her body. Overcome by the dazed look in her eyes, he nuzzled at her throat, certain that she wouldn't want to kiss him after what he'd just done, but Belle pulled him off of her and captured his mouth, licking the taste of herself off his tongue.

He shuddered, nearly climaxing just from that, and she pulled him down on top of her, cradling him between her thighs. His cock throbbed, and he growled into her mouth as she gave his arse an affectionate squeeze.

"Do you want to be inside me?" she asked, and he groaned, resting his forehead against hers.

He'd sell his soul to be inside of her, but this was not a good idea. He was already teetering on the edge of orgasm, so close that he wasn't sure he'd even be able to get all the way in before he came.

An excuse presented itself, and he grabbed it with both hands. "I… I don't have anything. Protection, I mean."

"I'm on the pill," she informed him, running her hands over his back in a way that made him grind his teeth and push his hips down, the sheer desire all but consuming him. This was the most blissful torture he'd ever known. Belle was caressing him, smiling up at him with those beautiful blue eyes he'd been admiring for months, and she was offering herself to him. It was too much to bear.

"_Belle_," he groaned, too frenzied to do anything but tell her the truth, "I won't… I won't _last_."

She stroked his back, massaging his neck comfortingly. "You don't have to. This is for you. Just do what feels good. If you want me, you can have me. Do you want me, Anthony?"

"Oh, God, yes!" he gasped, helpless to resist. "Belle, I…"

"I want you too. Go ahead, baby," she coaxed, reaching down to wrap her fingers around him, and he thrust into her hand with a grunt. Draping her leg over his hip, she guided him to her entrance, and the promise of her wet heat against the head of his cock had him growling like an animal.

He clutched at the sheets, struggling for control as he pushed his hips forward, easing just the tip into her. The first touch of her body sent white-hot pleasure arcing through him, forcing him to sink his teeth viciously into his bottom lip in a desperate effort to hold on.

"Breathe," Belle coaxed, massaging the back of his neck. "Just breathe. I've got you."

He pushed himself deeper, sheathing himself to the hilt in one long stroke as he buried his face against her throat, breathing like he was dying. _He was inside Belle. _ Belle was letting him make love to her. Beneath him, she sighed in pleasure, arching against him. "You feel so good inside of me."

He made a ridiculous noise, unable to hold back for another second. With a groan, he pulled back, thrusting back in with a jerk of his hips, and Belle wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him on with words of praise that sent him reeling. "So good…" she moaned. "_Anthony_…"

The sound of his name in that sultry voice pushed him over the edge, lightning crackling through his veins as he spilled himself, thrusting in groaning spasms as Belle caressed him, gentling him through it.

She guided his head to her breast, stroking him tenderly as he caught his breath, struggling to process what had happened. For a moment all was bliss and comfort before he realized just how lacking he'd been, lasting only a handful of thrusts before losing control and leaving her behind. "I'm sorry," he rasped, and she kissed the top of his head.

"I'm not," she said firmly. "It was absolutely lovely."

She was being kind again, and his face heated. "But I-"

"You felt wonderful inside me," she told him in a voice that brooked no disagreement.

He tried again. "You didn't-"

"It doesn't matter," she assured him. "We both enjoyed it. That's all that matters."

Lifting his head, Gold looked into her eyes, and he couldn't see a hint of deception. Belle _meant_ it. She'd enjoyed his clumsy fumblings. She truly didn't care that he'd lasted only a few thrusts. Kathleen would have mocked him for his failings, and Belle didn't mind.

He'd make it up to her, he vowed as he rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so he could wrap himself around her. Belle was a wonder, and he didn't deserve an inch of her. He'd do better next time. Somehow he'd prove himself worthy.


	4. Chapter 4

Gold was determined that his second date with Belle would be everything that the first one wasn't. He'd take her out for dinner and romance her properly, give her the kind of courtship that she deserved.

Not seeing her for three days after they'd made love was agonizing. Simply getting out of bed to go their separate ways had been difficult. Left to his own devices, Gold would have been very happy to spend the rest of eternity in bed with Belle, but they both had jobs that demanded their attention, and it wouldn't do to become a complete hedonist. In less than two weeks, Belle's show would end its run, and although he was certain she'd field plenty of offers once that happened, he hoped they'd have a little more time to spend together.

His reviews of the plays he saw in the intervening days were harsh even for him, but he'd lost patience with having his time wasted. He resented having to sit through bland comedies and overwrought dramas featuring actors whose broad performances would be more at home in a panto when he could be watching Belle instead.

It was a relief to settle into his usual seat and wait for the curtain to rise on another performance of _Virginia Woolf_. Belle's performance was electrifying as always, and seeing her onstage felt like coming home. This was what theater was meant to be- challenging and consuming and raw- and he could have loved her for her talent alone.

Even so, he was pleased when the curtain closed, and he was free to join Belle in her dressing room. For once he didn't have a bouquet of orchids in hand, but he hoped she'd like this present just as well.

He rapped on her dressing room door, smiling as her lilting voice called, "Come in, Mr. Gold!" just as she had a thousand times before. He opened the door to find her clad in her usual casual ensemble, and her eyes sparkled at him. "Are you here to give me orchids and discuss my character choices?" she teased.

Wordlessly he shook his head, catching her around the waist and pulling her closer as he ducked his head for a kiss. Belle wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers playing with his hair, and it was all he could do to remember what she'd taught him, pleased when she sighed against his mouth.

"Much better than talking about character beats," she smiled up at him as he released her, and Gold remembered the little box he'd brought with him.

"I do want to give you orchids though," he told her, fumbling in his pocket to retrieve the necklace. The pendant was small but perfectly formed, a cluster of porcelain orchids set on a silver base. He'd wanted to buy her something more memorable than just another bouquet, and this had seemed the perfect nod to their tradition.

"Oh, it's _beautiful_," she murmured, turning at his gesture so he could fasten it around her neck. Her skin felt so warm and soft beneath his fingers than he couldn't resist the urge to bend down and nuzzle that wonderful spot on the side of her throat, moaning when she slipped her fingers into his hair.

"Thank you, Anthony," she breathed, turning to face him with shining eyes as he brushed his fingers over the necklace, loving how it felt to see something he'd chosen adorning her. "You didn't have to buy me anything."

"I wanted to," he assured her. He looked forward to lavishing her with gifts in the future, a poor reflection of the amazing gift she'd given him. Belle wasn't after good reviews or his money. If she was, she would have simply accepted his limitations in the bedroom and pretended to enjoy them. Instead she'd taken the time to teach him to be better. She wanted a companion and lover, and those were roles he was eager to fill. "Dinner?" he suggested, and she nodded emphatically, scooping up her purse after taking a moment to admire her new necklace in the mirror.

He'd gotten them a table at Rao's, having to call in a fairly hefty favor to do so, but Belle was more than worth the effort, and the way her eyes widened when she saw where they were dining was incredibly pleasing. She'd opened up a whole new world for him; the least he could do was return the favor.

Dinner was exquisite, and the conversation flowed as easily as it did in her dressing room or his bedroom. Just talking to Belle- hearing her thoughts and watching her lips move- was heady. He'd known intelligent women before and witty women, but he'd never met anyone who combined the two so effortlessly with a genuine kindness that was rare in the city. He could look the world over, and he'd never find another Belle.

At one point he found himself pontificating about wine, Belle staring at him as he rambled, and he cut himself off quickly, hoping he hadn't bored her too much. "It seems like meteorology would be a useful degree if you wanted to go into wine-making," she ventured. "I always heard about such and such being a 'good year', but I never knew what it meant before."

Far from looking bored, Belle seemed fascinated, and she plied him with questions that proved she'd actually been listening. "I'm not boring you?" he asked, still needing the reassurance.

She looked almost comically surprised by the question. "Of course not!" Shaking her head, she glanced down at her plate. "Actually, I was afraid I was boring you. You know _everything_, and I… don't."

"Belle, love…" he murmured, covering her hand with his. The thought that she could possibly see herself as inferior both perplexed him and made his heart melt. He was so used to being the vulnerable one in their relationship that the idea that he could comfort and reassure her in turn was heartening. "You're absolutely perfect."

"I don't know about that," she said wryly, but she smiled and turned her hand over so they could hold onto each other.

He took her hand again as they left the restaurant, and the simple pleasure nearly overwhelmed him. How long had it been since he had this? Affectionate contact was something he'd denied himself for well over a decade, and now that he had it again, Gold had no idea how he'd ever manage to let her go. Hopefully Belle would never want to leave, because losing her might actually kill him. He hadn't realized just how lonely he'd been until Belle came along to fill all his empty places.

They made their way back to his apartment, heading straight for the bedroom by silent agreement. This was _their_ place, and even if they didn't make love tonight, just having her with him was all he could ask for.

Belle glanced around the room, smiling at the improvements he'd made. He'd tided up his clutter, dotting the room with candles. "Looks good," she approved, and he felt himself blush.

"I want to do this right," he told her earnestly. Age difference be damned, he was determined to court her properly, show her how grateful he was for her patient guidance. He'd woo his Belle and win her and never have to part from her again.

For all his professional confidence, Gold had never been anything but shy and awkward in his personal life, but Belle had changed everything. He was still shy and awkward and terribly imperfect, but for the first time in his life, he dared to believe that someone could love him anyway- that Belle could love him.

He'd be worthy of her, he vowed as she stepped into his arms. This time he didn't have to think so hard about the kiss, and he took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back. He was improving if the way Belle sighed and melted against him was any indicator, and perhaps with enough practice this would all come naturally.

The thought of practicing with Belle frequently enough to develop expertise was almost more than he could wrap his head around, but when Belle looked up at him with eyes gone dark with desire, his fantasy seemed within his grasp.

"I know what I want to do," Belle purred, taking hold of his tie and walking backwards until she'd led him to the bed.

"Anything," he vowed as her clever fingers unknotted his tie, pulling it loose in one smooth motion. Belle draped her prize around her own neck, and the sight of something of his on her drove him wild. Dropping his cane, he grabbed her hips and yanked her closer, all but growling as he seized her mouth again to kiss away her teasing smile.

He was careful not to bite, not to be too rough with her, but he was aware that the kiss was too wet, and he broke away hastily, feeling his face heat. Belle grinned up at him, taking half a step closer so his hard cock was pushing against her belly. "I like your enthusiasm," she praised.

Reaching out, he wiped his thumb over the corner of her mouth, relieved that she wasn't disgusted by his mistake. "What-?'" He cleared his throat and tried again, "What did you want to do, love?"

Gold was eager to put his lessons to good use, and no cause could be more noble than pleasing Belle. Letting her hand slip lower, she gave his arse a squeeze, and he thrust against her with a startled moan before he could control himself. She released him, stepping back to go to work on the buttons of his shirt. "I want to feel you inside me again."

Automatically he covered her hands with his own to stop her. "I… I don't think that's such a good idea." He'd give Belle anything she wanted, but he hoped he could talk her out of wanting this. His initial performance had been pathetic, and although she hadn't minded the first time, she'd surely be disappointed when she realized it was likely to be a problem _every_ time. Being quick on the draw once was excusable, maybe even flattering, but no woman wanted a man who couldn't last two minutes.

"I do," she said firmly, pulling out of his hold and tugging her blouse off over her head. "I love how you felt inside me."

"Belle," he grabbed her shoulders to hold her still so he could look into her eyes. "What happened last time… It won't be any different. I won't last."

She'd proved that she wouldn't laugh at him, but the words were still all but impossible to say as he drew her attention to his shortcomings. Belle nodded, and his heart sank as she moved away from him. To his surprise, instead of leaving the room she sat down on the edge of his bed and started taking off her shoes. "I think I blew half my lines at our first rehearsal. I was reading it, and I still couldn't say them," she said in a conversational tone.

Having no idea what she was talking about but pleased that she seemed to have dismissed the idea of putting him through his paces, Gold sat down beside her and did away with his own shoes and socks. Whatever was going through her mind, Belle didn't seem to want to leave, and they'd might as well get comfortable.

"Dustin pulled me aside and told me I was trying too hard," she continued, lying back so she was draped across the bed clad in just her jeans and bra. "He told me to just go with it, to try things and see what worked. So I experimented. And I got better."

Gold finally saw the connection and stared down at his hands. Belle was a patient teacher, and he wanted to do as she asked. More than anything he wanted to please her, but she didn't realize how deeply engrained these behaviors were. This was a problem he'd had for as long as he could remember. "I don't-"

"Baby." The endearment put a stop to whatever he'd been going to say. "You felt wonderful inside me. I want to feel you in me again even if it's only for a minute. We'll experiment. We'll try things. We'll find something that works."

His erection had flagged a bit, but hearing that she'd enjoyed having him in her brought him immediately back to aching hardness. He had to trust Belle. She'd been right about everything so far; maybe she was right about this too.

Holding her gaze, he started unbuttoning his shirt, finishing the job she'd started, and Belle watched with open admiration as he pulled it off. He'd always thought of himself as scrawny, but Belle looked at him like he was a Greek god.

"Much better," she praised, squirming out of her jeans, and his trousers followed immediately, his erection straining at the front of his boxers. To his relief, she didn't touch him, just licked her lips, but that alone was almost enough to make him disgrace himself.

In an effort to distract himself and to try to arouse her even half as much as she had him, he turned his attention to Belle's body, licking and kissing every spot that he remembered her liking as he got the rest of her clothes off of her. Gentle hands and soft words guided him, Belle moving beneath him restlessly.

"Please, baby," she begged, and he nearly ripped his boxers off, unable to resist her pleading. His Belle wanted him, and he would give her _anything_ she wanted. He moved to lie between her thighs, his cock pressing eagerly against her wet core, and his eyes rolled back in his head. There was no way he was going to last, but her hand was wrapping around him to guide him in, and there was no going back now.

With one shaky thrust, he was in, and he buried his face against her neck, breathing harshly as he struggled to control himself. Belle felt like heaven- hot, tight, wet heaven- and he ground his teeth, determined to do better this time.

She rubbed his back, shifting a little in a way that let him slip deeper, and the noise he made was an inhuman growl, the muscles in his back contracting, making his hips move instinctively. "Oh, that's _good_," she moaned, arching into him, and he bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, feeling his gut clench and his balls tighten, his body already aching for release.

Helplessly, he thrust a little harder, and Belle groaned, her hands sweeping down his back to grab his arse, and he was lost. With a cry that was as much despair as pleasure, he slammed into her, Belle's body tightening around him, coaxing out every last drop as he spilled himself in a rush of agonized pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he gasped as soon as he could talk again, his head pillowed on her chest. "Belle, I'm sorry."

He was hopeless, utterly hopeless, and he closed his eyes, waiting for her condemnation.

Gentle fingers combed through his hair. "Don't be sorry, baby. That was exactly what I wanted."

Gold found it somewhat hard to believe that Belle had wanted him to come in less than two minutes like a callow boy, but when he lifted his head, he saw no deception in her eyes. "I was thinking," she explained, lifting her leg to wrap it around his hip. "I think we should do it twice. The first time should take the edge off so the second time you last longer."

Her matter-of-fact tone should have embarrassed him, but instead he found it reassuring. They had a problem, and they were going to solve it. Belle presented it in the same terms she might have used had they discovered a crack in the ceiling or a flat tire, and that allowed him to be a little more objective. This didn't have to be a demonstration of all his failings as a man. It was just a problem. Couples worked together to solve problems. Together, he and Belle could solve this one.

"It's worth a try," he agreed, and she beamed up at him, clearly delighted that he was willing to try. "That does leave us with a problem though," he continued regretfully.

"What?" she asked, shifting a little as he slipped out of her.

"Well, I'm not as young as I used to be," he explained, reaching to cup her bare breast. "Whatever will we do while I'm recovering my strength?"

He squeezed gently, and Belle moaned, her smile turning dreamy. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

His refractory period wasn't what it had once been, although after the long dry spell, Gold thought his body behaved admirably. He had more important things to think about anyway. Belle was spread out before him like a banquet, so much pale skin to touch and kiss that he could have happily spent the rest of the evening doing nothing else.

He concentrated on her breath to tell him when he needed to change tactics or location, and her sweet moans were the highest praise he ever could have received. When he lowered his mouth to nuzzle at her nether lips, he tasted a salty tang in addition to her delicious flavor, and when Gold realized he was tasting himself on her, his eyes rolled back in his head. He felt primal, like a beast who'd claimed his mate, and he lapped eagerly, relying on Belle's fingers in his hair to guide him because he was beyond rational thought.

Only her cry of pleasure cut through the roaring in his ears, and he whimpered as she tugged him away, moving to lie beside her. It wasn't until her fingers brushed against his straining cock that he realized he was fully hard again, and Belle kissed the taste of herself off his tongue, pulling him down on top of her.

'Don't disappoint her,' he told himself harshly as he pushed in, groaning at the feel of her wrapped around him.

He _would_ stay in control this time. He would last, would please her, would prove himself worthy. He just had to stay strong.

He pulled out and thrust back in, Belle sighing beneath him, her eyes happy. Lowering his head, he stole a quick kiss, loving the way she wrapped her legs around his hips, holding onto him like she wanted to keep him close for an eternity. Kathleen had never made him feel so warm and welcome even in the earliest days of their marriage.

Trembling, he thrust again, feeling the pleasure building, and he gritted his teeth. He was going to do this _right_. Belle deserved a lover who could please her in all ways, and he could not disappoint her. He had to please Belle, had to last for Belle. He _would_ last for her.

He thrust smoothly into her, relieved that he was able to keep it together. Belle's fingers raked through his hair, pulling him down for a kiss, and his rhythm stuttered. No. He wouldn't let that happen. He wouldn't lost control. He'd act like a real man for once. Just once he'd do this _right_.

Kissing Belle was more than he could handle, and he reluctantly broke it, burying his face in her hair as he kept thrusting, concentrating on the way his muscles bunched and relaxed to distract himself from the joy of being inside of her. If he let himself feel it, he'd never be able to keep control. Instead, he thrust again and again, noticing for the first time that Belle was quiet.

She wasn't moaning or sighing in pleasure, and he panicked, thrusting harder. He was lasting, but he still wasn't giving her pleasure. No matter what he did, he was a failure, and he should have known this experiment was doomed from the start. Belle would be disgusted by him; even her patience must have its limits. She'd give up on him if he couldn't get this right, and he grabbed her knee, lifting it higher as he ground clumsily against her on each thrust, trying to find an angle that she liked, but nothing was working, and-

"Baby!" Warm hands cradled his face, Belle forcing him to look at her. "Baby, stop."

With a whimper of despair, he made to pull out of her. He'd failed so utterly that she was going to end it right in the middle of things, and maybe it was a blessing for her to put him out of his misery before he humiliated himself further.

"Stop," she said again, tightening her legs around his hips to keep him from pulling out. Startled and uncertain, Gold remained where he was, buried in her body and looking warily into her eyes.

"Breathe," she murmured, kissing the tip of his nose, and he obeyed.

"No. _Breathe_," she said again, taking a deep slow breath. He mimicked her, breathing in deeply and letting it out slowly, some of the tension leaving him.

"Again," she commanded, and again they breathed together.

"You were a million miles away," she said softly, and he winced.

"I'm _sorry_, Belle." No matter how hard he tried, he seemed doomed to disappoint her.

She stroked his back, coaxing him to relax, and he tried to obey her wordless instructions. "What were you thinking about?"

"That I wanted to be good for you," he admitted, not quite daring to tell her of his fear that she'd leave him if he failed. "I want to be good for you, Belle."

"You are," she promised, and he saw nothing but honesty in her eyes. "But it's no use if you're not with me."

His brow furrowed. "I'm right here."

Her inner muscles squeezed gently around him, making him gasp. "You are now, but you weren't before. You went somewhere in your head, and I'm selfish. I want you to be here with me."

In his desperate attempts to please her, he'd forgotten the most basic lesson she'd taught him- to pay attention to her reactions. Hearing Belle's noises of pleasure was so erotic that he hadn't dared listen. He'd been ignoring her even as he moved within her; no wonder everything had gone wrong. "I'm so sorry."

"Hush," she gave him a crooked smile and kissed his nose again. "You're back now. I'm glad."

She gave him another gentle squeeze, adjusting her legs so that he had room to move. "Stay with me," she directed, holding his gaze as she rocked her hips, and he instinctively moved in counterpoint.

"That's good," she praised, and he did it again, watching in fascination as her pupils dilated. He couldn't look away from her eyes, reading the pleasure there clearly as he moved within her.

Belle rubbed his back, soothing him, and her touch helped him stay focused. Gold concentrated on her breathing, listening for any sign that he was doing well, and at a particularly deep thrust she groaned, her eyelashes fluttering.

"No, stay with me," he murmured, and her eyes locked with his again, their breath falling into sync. He needed that connection. Never had he felt so close to another person, and what their bodies were doing was only a small fraction of it.

Slow, deep thrusts were her favorites, and he obliged, echoing her soft moans with his own deeper noises. The air in the room seemed heavy, caressing them as they moved together, and he brushed his lips tenderly against hers without breaking eye contact.

"Oh yes," she sighed. "Anthony…"

"My Belle," he whispered in return. She smiled at the sound of it, her caresses becoming firmer as her breathing grew more rapid.

She moaned and moved beneath him, her legs tightening their hold on him. "Tilt your pelvis down," she panted, arching up as he did, and her quavering moan filled the room. "Just like that. Grind down just- Yes!"

He did as she bade, gasping when her entire body jolted, her eyes going wide, and he suddenly had a technique that worked. Breathlessly he repeated the motion- a deep thrust followed by a grind of his hips- and Belle cried out, her nails biting into his shoulders.

Unable to stop himself, Gold picked up his pace, feeling like he was entering the last leg of a race, but Belle moaned and writhed beneath him, urging him on. Pleasure was simmering in his veins, but he was somehow managing to keep control, the need to take Belle to the height of ecstasy greater than any physical need ever could be.

"Anthony!" Her voice breaking on his name was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, and she tightened around him so hard it was almost painful, welcoming him deep as he buried himself against her with a cry of his own, his hips jerking as he let go, following her over the edge. Their cries mingled in the room, the noises somehow harmonious. Through it all he held her gaze, the two of them as close together as it was possible to be.

It was Belle who broke the eye contact, her eyes fluttering closed as she let out a blissful sigh. "That was _amazing_."

Gold blinked rapidly, feeling like he was coming out of hypnosis or some kind of magic spell. He'd done it. He'd made love to Belle and given her pleasure. _They'd_ done it. "Oh, Belle…"

She beamed up at him, pulling him down for a kiss before she coaxed him to snuggle into her. He rested his head on her shoulder, feeling lightheaded and drained and triumphant. "I think you can quit worrying," she said with a little giggle, wrapping her arms around him. "That was… It's never been that good before."

Too relieved to even feel proud of himself, Gold kissed her throat in abject gratitude. Belle had promised to teach him to please her, and she had. He no longer had to worry about disappointing her, because they'd found something that worked. "Thank you," he said fervently, and she chuckled into his hair.

"I think that should be my line," she retorted. She smoothed her hand over his back, and he nuzzled closer, feeling like he was trying to crawl into her skin. He'd never be close enough to Belle until he was buried inside of her again. For the first time in decades, the thought gave him nothing but joy.

"Despite a few technical difficulties, the performance of the night belonged to Anthony Gold," she said mock-seriously, and he snorted. "His unconventional choices proved exhilarating, and left this reviewer weak at the knees and wholly satisfied."

Gold wasn't sure whether to blush or laugh, so he did both. "Perhaps you should stick to acting," he suggested, and she gave his arse a stinging slap.

"You're terrible at taking compliments," she complained, but the laughter in her voice told him that she wasn't really upset.

"Only when misdirected. Tonight's triumph clearly belongs to you." She giggled, and he traced his finger over the chain of her necklace to straighten it. "I stand by my original assessment- you should direct."

"Do directors get orchids?" she yawned, her fingers delving back into his hair and making him want to purr.

"As many as you want," he promised, exhaustion starting to catch up with him as well. "For as long as you'll have me." He'd buy her orchids every day for the rest of their lives, but that decision belonged to her. As long as she wanted him, he was hers.

Belle kissed his hair. "I'm not letting you go anywhere," she said drowsily, and he'd have to ask again tomorrow if she'd meant those words, but for tonight, Gold was content to hug them close and let himself believe that this was forever.


	5. Interlude: Chantilly Lace

_A D&R take on "Lacey"- Critic!Gold hates Belle's new play._

Lacey leaned over the pool table, her short skirt riding up dangerously high as she lined up her shot with a saucy smile, and Gold shifted in his seat, swallowing hard to force back a whimper. He knew what was coming, and the urge to flee the theater was all but uncontrollable.

From the moment he first saw her, he'd admired Belle's ability to completely embody a character, to lose herself entirely, leaving a stranger in her place, but now he wished she wasn't quite so talented. He hated this play- _hated_ it.

_Chantilly_ was the hottest ticket of the fall season. A new play from the reclusive genius Jefferson Madden always attracted attention, and there had been no question but Belle would accept when offered the female lead. Her career was on a meteoric rise, and he didn't begrudge her any of the fame and attention. No one deserved it more than his Belle.

He'd been useless during her rehearsal process for the show. A single read through had been all that he could handle, the script hitting far too close to home. Lacey was a scantily clad barfly, cheating on her wealthy older lover with a long string of young punks. This scene- the bar scene- was all but impossible for Gold to watch. In it, Lacey's lover came to the bar to confront her, and Lacey denounced his pathetic bedroom skills that forced her into the arms of other men.

Watching Lacey was like looking into a dark mirror, all of Belle's gentleness and sweetness replaced by cruelty and biting wit. It was a brilliant monologue that invariably brought the house down before the audience remembered they weren't supposed to be sympathizing with Lacey. As a critic, Gold could appreciate it. As a man, he wanted to be sick. To see his Belle saying those words, to hear them in her voice was a nightmare come to life. He hated this play, and to his shame, he hated Lacey too.

Belle had been understanding when he admitted his discomfort with her role, assuring him that she didn't expect him to come see her on his every free evening as he always did, but Gold forced himself to come at least once a week. As Belle's boyfriend he owed her his support, and she _was_ wonderful in the role. It was his issue to deal with, not hers.

Still he lingered in the theater on the nights he came to see her, making sure that she had time to shower and change before he came to deliver her orchids. Gold wanted to see Belle without a hint of Lacey clinging to her. Those encounters were quiet and raw as the pair of them just held each other in her dressing room, Gold unable to find anything intelligent to say about her performance, her brilliance leaving him feeling battered and beaten.

It was two weeks to the end of the run, and he'd never looked forward to a show's closing more. Lately he'd been having nightmares where Lacey's monologue was coming out of Belle's mouth and directed at him. She'd grown tired of him and finally couldn't hold back any longer, telling him all the ways that he disappointed her day after day and night after night. He woke up gasping and sweating, and only Belle's warm arms around him allowed him to relax enough to sleep again. He _hated_ this play.

He came home from a mediocre revival of _Cabaret_ feeling impossibly old and worn. Even the thought of savaging the production in his review didn't bring him any relief, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Belle and just breathe her in, letting himself bask in their impossible love. Instead he found a note on the kitchen counter in Belle's looping writing- "Meet me at 11:00." Beneath it was a matchbook advertising some place called The Rabbit Hole.

Intrigued he shrugged his jacket back on, racking his mind for a time she'd mentioned trying some place new. Belle enjoyed exploring their neighborhood, but when he finally reached the Rabbit Hole, Gold was certain he'd gotten something mixed up. The bar was a dive, not something his Belle had ever shown any interest in. The matchbook was his only clue, and he went in, wondering what she was up to.

There was no sign of her in the main room, and he kept walking, listening for the sound of her voice over the loud rock music. Down a short hallway was a room comprised solely of a pool table, and the music was blessedly quieter there. He stepped inside, blanching at the sight of Belle clad in Lacey's short, sparkly dress as she leaned over the table, lining up a shot. There was a glass of scotch beside her, and half a dozen young punks surrounded her, all begging for the next round. Gold clutched his cane, leaning on it hard as the world swam sickeningly around him. When he bit his tongue, the flash of pain assured him that this was no dream.

Her hair was done up in the same messy bun she wore as Lacey although her makeup was slightly more subdued, and he knew exactly what was coming. He'd seen it in his nightmares, and now it was real. Belle was going to tell him that she'd had enough. She was going to destroy him, and there was no way he was going to survive this.

He stumbled back, unable to make his shaking body cooperate with his intention to flee the room, and Belle glanced up, her face lighting up at the sight of him. "Anthony!" she exclaimed, dropping her cue to run to his side. "You made it!"

Warm hands plunged into his hair, tugging him down for a kiss that he was too shocked to respond to. This wasn't how the scene went. Undaunted, Belle kept kissing him, teasing his tongue with hers until he remembered how to kiss her back, his free arm sliding around her waist to pull her close. Only then did she release his lips, nuzzling the corner of his mouth for just a moment before she stepped back. "Play the next round with me?" she asked, and a groan of disappointment came from one of the punks.

"I thought I was next," he protested, and Belle turned, catching his hand in hers to pull him over to the table.

"Sorry," she shrugged, not sounding sorry at all. "My boyfriend's here."

If the punk said anything else, Gold didn't hear it, too enraptured by the smile on Belle's face as she looked at him and the way she snuggled into his side as she waited for her turn, stepping away from him only long enough to take her shots and grab her drink, offering him a sip of her scotch. Gold was careful to cover her lip print with his own mouth, enjoying the phantom kiss as Belle made it very, very obvious to every man in the room that she was happily taken.

She won the game handily and racked up the balls for them to play. Once he'd been good at this, but with Belle smiling at him like that, Gold questioned whether he'd even remember which end of the cue to use. She was rewriting his nightmare, proving that although she and Lacey looked alike, the two women had nothing in common, and he was torn between gratitude and a desire so intense it made his hands shake. "Care to make this interesting?" she asked saucily, brushing her entire body against him as she slipped past him to retrieve her cue.

All he could manage was an inquisitive grunt, words beyond him. "One kiss per ball sunk," she offered, and he nodded at once, incapable of denying her anything even if he was so keyed up that he questioned the odds of them escaping the bar without putting on a very inappropriate show.

He leaned over the table to break, clenching his teeth when he felt Belle's hand slip under his suit jacket to caress his back through his shirt. With brutal effort he forced himself to concentrate and broke, managing to sink two balls to his shock. "Stripes."

"Solids," Belle acknowledged, catching hold of his tie to pull him down for two kisses, rewarding him for his concentration.

He braced his hands against the table, leaning over slightly to watch as Belle lined up her shot, glancing up at him with a wicked smile before she sank the three. Catching her around the waist, he covered her lips with his own, sliding his tongue deep into her mouth to the sound of catcalls from the audience he'd almost forgotten they had. Knowing that there were other eyes on them only fueled the fire. Belle was proving a point, giving him the chance to publicly stake his claim and showing everyone that she'd chosen him out of all the men in the world. Lacey had taken this opportunity to denounce her lover, but Belle was telling the world how happy she was with him. Every man in the room wanted her, but she was his.

The nervous agitation he'd been feeling since she started working on the show started to relax its hold on him. Lacey was just a character like Honey and Belinda and all the rest. She was just words on a piece of paper. Belle was real and smiling at him and so beautiful it made his heart ache.

Belle was also doing her level best to distract him. She'd stroke his back or squeeze his bum while he tried to line up a shot, and in a matter of minutes he was losing badly. Taking a chance, he pressed himself against her back as she chalked her cue, pressing his hips forward so she could feel how much she'd excited him. With his lips against the shell of her ear, he murmured, "Do you have any idea how much I want you right now? Right here on this pool table?"

He could feel her shiver, and it took all the strength he had to force himself to step back, feeling a bizarre pride when she missed her shot. Gold had never thought that he had any kind of sexual appeal, but the way Belle responded to him made him feel like a god.

The confidence buoyed him through his next shot, and he claimed his kiss, Belle's fingers tight around the knot of his tie, cutting off his oxygen supply just enough to make him feel fuzzy and wonderful. Coming to a silent accord, they turned their full attention back to the game, looking to end it quickly. It didn't matter who won or who lost; they'd both already won.

Even so, Gold couldn't resist the wicked urge to wrap his hand around her upper thigh, squeezing the soft flesh bared by her short skirt, and Belle gasped, arching back into him like a cat at the same moment the eight ball sank into the corner pocket, and she spun around in his arms, her hands plunging into his hair as she yanked him down for a kiss. He pinned her between himself and the table, and only the knowledge that they weren't alone in the room kept him from simply lifting her onto it and having her then and there.

With a grunt of effort, he released her, taking a moment to admire her dark eyes and flushed cheeks before he caught her hand. "Let's go."

They slipped out the back door to a round of applause that made his chest swell with ridiculous pride. The door let out into an alley, and the cool night air did nothing to quell his arousal. The moment the door shut behind them, he had Belle in his arms again, grateful that the months of patient tutoring had made kissing instinctive because he didn't have a single brain cell to spare to think about technique.

"_Anthony_," she moaned into his mouth, and the sound of his name on her lips was the most erotic thing he'd ever heard. He was impossibly hard, and they were two blocks from their apartment, and he was going to die.

Belle grabbed him by the tie and took a step back and then another until he was plastered to her front with the rough wall of the building at her back. Gold had only a moment to be concerned that the brick was too harsh for her delicate skin when she wrapped her leg around his hip, arching into him. "Anthony, _please_…"

"God, yes," he panted, seizing her mouth as he slipped his hand under her skirt, pushing aside her lacy knickers to stroke over her folds and groaning as he felt how wet she was for him. No matter how many times they did this, the fact that he could excite her never failed to awe him. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined that he'd be able to please his Belle so.

He wanted nothing more than to push into her, to feel her tight body clinging to him as he pleased her, but the position was untenable with his bad leg. Instead, he let his fingers explore, her glorious wetness soaking his digits as he searched out all the places that made her shudder and moan, keeping himself tight against her in protection from the cold and any possible prying eyes.

She cried out when he slipped two fingers into her, curling them just like she'd taught him, and he smothered her cry with his kiss, afraid they'd attract attention. For all that he'd enjoyed flirting and teasing in front of an audience, this moment was too beautiful to share. This was love in its most basic form, and he clutched her closer, the rocking of her hips against his hard cock nearly driving him mad.

"Belle," he moaned, tearing his mouth from hers to bite and suck at her throat, his desire too intense to be expressed any other way. "Belle. My Belle."

She pressed her face against his shoulder as he found that wonderful spot hidden in her folds, teasing it with his thumb until she was shaking and moaning, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding her together. Unable to hold back, Gold rocked his hips, rubbing himself against her just a little, desperate for friction.

"God, I love you," he rasped, his accent thick enough to render him all but unintelligible, but Belle heard and understood, lifting her shining face to his.

"I love you, baby," she whispered back. Belle always said the words back, even if she was half asleep, and they never failed to amaze him. Belle, who could have anyone, loved him.

He bit his lip to ward off his climax, determined to please her first. Pressing just a little bit harder with his thumb, he rubbed her in the complex pattern that was her favorite, and his breath caught when Belle shuddered in his arms, her blue eyes slamming closed as her mouth opened in a silent cry of ecstasy.

Nothing was more beautiful than Belle at the height of her pleasure, and he kept rubbing her, trying to prolong it as much as he could out of the sheer selfish desire to simply look at her and know that he'd satisfied her.

All too soon, she came down from her high, blinking her eyes open with a sated, sleepy smile. "So _good_, baby," she purred, reaching down to cup him, and he thrust into her hand with a tortured groan, that one touch enough to push him over the edge.

Burying his face against her throat, he panted and moaned through it, Belle's clever fingers rubbing in exactly the right way. When his head cleared, he found himself all but crushing her into the wall and reluctantly pulled away, praying that he hadn't hurt her. As he slid his fingers out of her, she leaned up for a reassuring kiss, and Gold dismissed the worry. If he'd done something she hadn't liked, she'd tell him, and Belle looked completely content.

She shivered when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, greedily sucking the taste of her off his skin. His Belle was delicious, and he could never get enough. Her eyelids fluttered at his action, and he could feel her trembling when she took his arm. "Home?" she requested, and he could tell from the look in her eyes that their evening was just beginning.

The specter of Lacey had been banished, and it was just him and Belle now as it should be. He'd worried for nothing. This was good and true and theirs, and it was forever. "Home," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Let's go home."


	6. Epilogue: Blooms of Winter

Gold leaned back in the plush seat and just breathed, waiting for the magic moment when the stage lights went up, revealing his Belle to him. This wasn't how he would have chosen to spend their Christmas Eve- he'd had visions of the pair of them in Scotland, of him showing her off to the extended family and finding someplace private and snowy with a beautiful view where he could ask her to be his wife. Belle, however, had been excited when she'd been offered a role in the week-long run of Alan Ayckbourn's_ Season's Greetings_, and he couldn't blame her. Belinda was a wonderful role, but the true gift was that she hadn't had to audition. Instead the director had contacted her personally to tell her about the production and ask her to take the role. Belle French's star was rising, and he would do nothing to stand in her way. Scotland would still be there next year.

Tonight was the second time he'd seen the show during its brief run. The first time he'd watched through critic's eyes so he could write his review, but tonight he could focus on what was truly important: Belle.

From the first night he'd ever seen on her stage, he'd been enraptured by her eyes, and tonight he focused on them to the exclusion of all else, amazed at the change he saw in them while she was on stage. Gone was the woman who shared his life, and in her place was Belinda. Never before had he seen someone so young who could so completely embody a character.

It was awe-inspiring, and Gold said a silent prayer of thanks yet again that she'd had the courage he lacked to take their relationship to its next level. Left to his own devices, he would have admired her silently for the rest of his life, attended every show she did, and dreamed about her in his lonely bed, his only expression of affection the orchids he gave her. Instead Belle had seen through him and forced him to be honest with her. She'd dismissed their age difference, his dullness, and his pathetic bedroom skills and showed him that none of that mattered, teaching him how to please her instead of accepting his failures.

Under her tutelage he'd become a competent lover even if he'd never be a particularly brilliant one, and no Christmas present could ever compare to that gift. Belle had given him herself, and there was nothing in the world that he wanted more.

He was the first to stand during the curtain call, and the rest of the audience followed his lead, overflowing with the spirit of the season. The exuberance followed over to the stage door where Belle signed programs and posed for pictures, her beautiful smile undimmed even though he knew she must be starving. No matter how much experience she had under her belt, her nerves never permitted her to eat before a performance.

They had reservations at WD-50, the odd little restaurant that Belle adored and he'd learned to appreciate although molecular gastronomy would never be his favorite type of cuisine. It was worth it to see her smile as she tucked into the cubes of scrambled eggs that served as their appetizer.

"Are you tired?" she asked solicitously as they left, and he shook his head. Gold might be two decades her senior, but he'd be damned if he couldn't keep up with her. Although he knew Belle loved him, the fear that she might decide to trade him in for a newer model refused to be shaken. Only the sight of his ring on her finger would completely soothe his nerves, but the thought of asking left him trembling. In Scotland with a beautiful vista Belle might be swept away in the moment enough to say yes. He liked his chances less if he proposed in New York.

"I'm at your disposal, love," he promised, and she beamed.

"Good, because I know _exactly_ what I want to do," she said, releasing his arm to catch his hand instead, her pace quickening just a bit, not too much for him to be able to keep up with her. She was always careful about that.

Instead of having their cab take them back to his apartment or hers, Belle had another destination in mind, and Gold blanched at the sight of the massive Christmas tree towering over Rockefeller Plaza. Hopefully she just wanted to look at the thing. It was certainly more impressive than the little tree they'd decorated in his living room, but he still preferred that one with its golden 'Our First Christmas' ornament displayed front and center.

Dashing his hopes, Belle kept walking, leading him towards the shop renting ice skates. "Belle..." he protested, and she shot him a dazzling smile.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" she asked, and he held up his cane with a sardonic look. "Oh hush, I won't let you fall."

That was something she'd proven over and over again in every way possible. She'd pushed him to his limits and beyond more times than he could count, but she'd always been his safety net. Belle wouldn't let him fall. "All right, love."

A kiss was his reward, and they checked their shoes and his cane in favor of ice skates which they sat together to put on. Belle laced hers up before he'd finished, and he sat entranced as she glided onto the ice, her arms outstretched as she did a little spin which he applauded. "Ready?" she asked, holding both of her hands out to him.

He wasn't. Gold couldn't remember the last time he'd skated, but it probably had been before Belle was born. Trying not to focus on that thought, he stood, his ankles shaking as Belle skated closer and tucked herself against his side. With her against him and her arm around his waist, he felt much steadier, and he was almost enjoying himself until his knee twinged painfully.

"Take your weight off of it," Belle encouraged him as soon as she heard his intake of breath. Adjusting his grip on her, he did so, the blade on that foot barely touching the ice, yet he still felt secure with Belle supporting his weight on his bad side. "That's right, baby. Just let me do the work."

It took them a little bit to figure out how to skate in a straight line with her providing all of the momentum and even longer to figure out how to corner. By their fourth near-miss with the wall, Belle was laughing so hard they were barely making progress at all, and her giggles proved infectious. Gold had laughed more in his months with Belle than he had in the past two decades. She made everything so much brighter.

True to her word, Belle didn't let him fall although she nearly took a tumble herself as they got themselves off the ice. He caught her, ignoring the shot of pain in his knee as he took her weight. No cause could have been more worthy. "Careful, love," he scolded, "Can't have you getting broken."

It was with some relief that he got his shoes back on and retrieved his cane. Skating had been more fun than he expected, but he still preferred having solid ground under him and Belle. The bench they found near the towering tree suited him much better, especially when Belle beamed up at him with sparkling eyes and cheeks pink from the cold. Unable to resist, he leaned down to steal a kiss, and she leaned into him at once, her lips tasting like chocolate from the cup of hot cocoa she held in her mittened hands. Carefully, he licked the last traces of cocoa away so that he could taste nothing but her, and she was far sweeter than any drink.

She gasped against his lips, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth with a low groan, still astounded that she could react so strongly to him. Perhaps in another thirty years he might learn to take Belle's responses for granted, to simply assume that she would enjoy his kisses and caresses, but for the time being, Gold wanted to drop to his knees and say a prayer of thanksgiving every time she leaned into him instead of shoving him away.

When their lips parted, Belle's eyes were heavy-lidded and dazed. "Home?" she suggested softly, and his heart leapt.

"Home," he agreed. Never had his apartment felt more like home than when Belle was there making everything warm and perfect. They'd snuggle together in front of their tree, perhaps make love in its glow, and this was better than taking her to Scotland. He didn't have to share her with anyone. Her show was over; rehearsals for the next wouldn't start until the new year, and they had nowhere to be except with each other. He couldn't ask for a better present.

Belle's mittened hand slipped into his as they stood up, and he claimed one last kiss, oblivious to the noise and confusion surrounding them. He smiled down at her senselessly, his safe harbor, and Belle gasped, her eyes going wide.

"What?" he asked at once, nerves immediately on edge.

Her surprised expression faded into one of wonder. "It's snowing."

Indeed it was, he realized, watching in fascination as the tiny flakes landed on her hair and eyelashes, clinging as if they were just as loath to let her go as he was. "It's like a dream," she murmured, her hands coming up to cradle his face, and he turned to press a kiss to her palm through her mitten.

Gold had to have another kiss and then another, her chilled lips warming beneath his. Pulling back only inches, he kept his arms around her, gazing down into her eyes. "I love you, Belle."

With a soft smile, she nuzzled closer, her nose brushing his bottom lip. "And I love you too." There was no hesitation in her voice, no doubt, and tears of gratitude stung his eyes as he held her close.

He'd thought that Scotland at Christmastime would be the perfect time and place for a marriage proposal, but now Gold was rethinking matters. Scotland in the summer would do quite nicely instead. Scotland in the springtime would be better yet. The sooner he could make Belle his wife, the sooner their happily-ever-after could begin.


End file.
